Page 3 of Bourbon Girl: part 4 of 6
"But when I come back," he said, stepping closer, "I hope we can spend more time together."
The October breeze stirred golden leaves around our feet, and I realized I was standing at another crossroads. I could keep protecting myself from potential hurt, or I could take the risk of letting someone see me completely.
"Okay," I whispered, holding my breath.
Dylan's smile was worth the gamble.
October 3, Friday
charred oakthe interior of a barrel is burned to a specific level to develop flavor
THE EMPTYtour bus was rolling toward the campground at the end of the day. I remained in my seat, my phone on speaker as I scrolled through Tom Feldon's LinkedIn profile on my screen. The professional headshot showed a man with kind eyes and weathered features—someone who looked like he'd spent decades working outdoors.
"Suzy, I'm sending you a photo," I said, hitting the share button. "Can you take a look and tell me if he seems familiar?"
Through the phone, I could hear the distant sound of airline announcements in the background—Suzy was probably at the airport between flights.
"Okay, honey, let me pull it up." A pause. "Handsome man. But I'm sorry, the name and face aren't ringing any bells. You said Tom Feldon?"
My heart sank slightly. "He's a liaison between the bourbon industry and farmers. He could've been around the bars in Lexington back when you and Mom worked together."
"Bernadette, there were so many people floating in and out of those places. And thirty years does things to a person's appearance, you know? Even if I had met him back then, I might not recognize him now."
I stared at Tom's photograph, searching for some family resemblance I could point to with confidence. Did we have the same nose? Similar chin? Or was I just seeing what I wanted to see?
"I understand," I said, though disappointment colored my voice. "Thanks for looking."
"Have you considered just asking him directly?"
"I'm still trying to decide," I said, then thanked her and ended the call.
Jett caught my glance in the mirror. "Bad news?"
"Suzy doesn't remember Tom."
"That doesn't mean he wasn't around. Back then people took fewer photos, and social media wasn't a thing. People moved on without staying connected."
I nodded, though the explanation felt inadequate. "I'm meeting Keith Banyon tonight. Going to show him the photos I have, see if he recognizes anyone."
Jett steered the bus into the campground entrance, then opened the door. "Good luck with that."
I swung down to the ground. "Thanks!"
I changed into jeans and a blouse and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. It had grown a couple of inches since I'd arrived, and my skin was lightly tanned. In Arizona I had avoided the harsh sun, but since landing in Kentucky, I'd spent more time outdoors than anytime in my life.
It suited me, I decided.
The Winged Pegasus pub sat on a quiet corner, its brick exterior weathered by decades of Kentucky seasons. Through the windows, I could see the warm glow of amber lighting and hear the low murmur of evening conversation. Keith and his wife Kristen were already seated at a corner table when I arrived, two pint glasses of beer between them. But the body language between them seemed strained, so I approached the table cautiously.
Keith noticed me first and smiled. "Bernadette, hello."
"Hello," I said. "Thanks for meeting me."
Kristen greeted me and gave me a little smile, then stood. "I'll let you two talk." She excused herself, and I got the feeling I'd arrived in the middle of a spat.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Just fine," Keith said. "You have more pictures for me to look at?"
